Glimpses of the Second Son
by Steelsheen
Summary: A collection of Faramir drabble (100-word stories) based on challenges from A'mael Taren. Faramir's life, love and dreams, laid out short and sweet. Featuring Eowyn, Boromir and Denethor.
1. Healing & Foresight

**Healing**  
  
It hurts to keep his eyes shut. Instead, they trace the cracks of the ceiling, obscure in darkness.  
  
The Houses of Healing they call it, but he has found no healing here, haunted by smoke and flame and his father's face.  
  
Sighing, he pushes aside the sheets and stumbles to the window. Looking out, he sees her. She stands on the wall and looks eastward to shadow, hair stirred in the wind, stance proud, if weary.   
  
She can't sleep either, he realizes, and something shifts in his heart, watching her.  
  
She returns inside. He lingers at the window, thinking.   
  
**Foresight**  
  
A huge wave rises in the south, greater than the mountains. As it draws closer, it becomes dark and festering, the water laced with blood.   
  
He tries to cry out, but he can't speak; his throat works, but no noise escapes. He is on top of the White Tower, and he sees the people of the city carrying on with their everyday business, blissfully oblivious.   
  
A voice: You see our doom, Faramir. And the wave smites the city, soaking him in bloody water, and it's in his lungs and he can't breathe -   
  
He wakes up gasping, near tears. Not again.


	2. Opposite Direction & Boromir's Change

_Hey, anyone who happens to be reading this. Just wanted to say that A'mael Taren has a community at if you're interested. Also wanted to thank my, er, two reviewers. :P Well, y'know.   
  
Disclaimer: Everyone belongs to Tolkien, the lucky bastard. _**  
  
The Opposite Direction**  
  
Elboron cried, slamming the book shut and racing to the door. I'm off to practice!  
  
Faramir sighed and watched his son go. The boy seemed to have no interest whatsoever in history, and however hard the steward tried to convince him that it was peacetime, and he really didn't need to practice his sword as often as he did, Elboron refused to listen.  
  
When he shared his thoughts with Eowyn that evening, she pursed her lips and thought for a moment. He sounds like you as a boy, she said.  
  
How so? Faramir didn't understand. I always wanted to read.  
  
Eowyn replied. You always wanted to read, never to fight. His passions lead him in the opposite direction, but he is just like you that way.  
  
Faramir considered this, and slowly, he began to smile. he said at last. I suppose he is.  
  
**Boromir's Important and Rather Amusing Change**  
  
Boromir, son of Denethor, was going through that time in his life that all boys go through during which they become men, and also during which everyone around them gets to laugh. Yes, his voice was cracking.  
  
Faramir, pass me-E-e the apples, Boromir requested, his voice going from normal to high to low over the course of the word . His face remained stony.  
  
Faramir tried not to laugh and ended up snorting rudely.  
  
Boromir looked around for something to throw at his brother that wouldn't cause any serious damage. Coming up lacking, he settled to glare. Do I amuse you, brother?  
  
Faramir shook with suppressed giggles.  
  
You know, this means I am becoming a man, Boromir informed him proudly, but his slowly reddening face belied him.  
  
This remark did nothing to somber Faramir.  
  
This will happen to you, too, eventually, you know, Boromir muttered.  
  
Faramir decided he'd think about that when it happened, and though he managed to stop laughing, his eyes still danced mirthfully.  
  
Boromir threw a crumpled napkin at him.  
  
Man, indeed, Faramir remarked, and with that the two took off out of the dining hall, Boromir chasing Faramir, both laughing and shouting wildly. No, Boromir was not yet a man.


	3. An Educated Horse & Undeserving

_And there's more, folks! These were both for a challenge where the drabble had to involve horses, and horses and Faramir are two of my very favorite topics to write about, so I enjoyed these. _**  
  
An Educated Horse**  
  
Boromir wondered what on earth was keeping Faramir.  
  
Agitated, he stuck his head around the corner into the stableyard. The brothers had taken a long ride that day, gallivanting about the Pelennor at top speed so ten-year-old Faramir could get used to his new horse, a rather stubborn old gray gelding. Faramir now walked the horse around in circles in the paddock to cool him out, which was unremarkable. What was remarkable to Boromir was that he seemed to be talking to the horse.  
  
The elder strode into the paddock. What are you doing?  
  
...but Thingol didn't want them to be married - Faramir looked up. Shh! I'm telling him the tale of Beren and Luthien. He's going to be a very educated horse.  
  
Boromir blinked.   
  
**Undeserving**  
  
Damrod watched the Captain with concern.   
  
Faramir looked up. His jaw appeared to be unpleasantly tight. They had won the latest skirmish, and Osgiliath remained safely in the hands of Minas Tirith. But the victory obviously did nothing to lighten the Captain's heart. He was gazing about the battlefield, eyes resting grimly on every fallen man.  
  
Do you know what I especially regret about this war, Damrod?  
  
No, sir, Damrod replied honestly.  
  
Faramir knelt. At his feet lay a fallen horse, gruesome wounds stretching across its flanks. He laid a hand on the beast's head, and for once he let just a bit of sadness show on his face. These horses have nothing to do with the wars of men, and yet we ride them into battle and death.  
  
Damrod paused a moment, then knelt by his captain, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. Eventually, there will be peace, sir, he said hesitantly.  
  
Faramir looked up at him and gave the smallest of smiles. I certainly hope so.


	4. Misunderstanding & The Enemy

_Hee hee... no one reads this thing. But yeah, might as well have a disclaimer... and these were for a drabble challenge where someone had to be observing Faramir, and I noticed everyone watching him seemed to like him, so I decided to counter that.   
  
Disclaimer: Faramir is not mine, and for that I will now go off and cry into my pillow. _**  
  
Misunderstanding  
** Captain Faramir rides out, tall and noble, his horse stepping delicately through flowers thrown at its hooves. How I hate him.  
  
No tears when my father departed, no tears for a girl with no one to dry her eyes now that he has left. He rides now in Faramir's company; he rides to death. I cannot distinguish him from the others clad in black and silver, riding resigned to their fate.  
  
Faramir passes me and does not see me, a poor peasant girl whose beloved father he is leading into death. His face is determined, and he rides with dignity, but there is sadness in his stance.  
  
For a moment I can almost feel for him.  
  
But then it passes, and I hate him even more.   
  
**The Enemy  
** Colors fade into each other and darkness creeps into the corners of my vision. My knees hit the ground hard. What took me down? My hand is clutching something - an arrow, perhaps? I cannot think straight, pain pulses in my chest where something has struck me. My hands are covered in something wet. My blood.  
  
I give a cry, unwilling to die here, never to set foot in the sands of Harad again.  
  
My half-blind eyes register something - the filthy Rangers' captain stands before me. I lash out with my knife and miss, but he lays a hand on my shoulder.  
  
He says something in his language, and, strangely, somehow I understand it. "Go swiftly, and be in peace."  
  
I nod, and then there is no more.


End file.
